


Gods of a Feather

by Petrichor_Amber



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Classical References, Fluff, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Headcanon, Impala Feels, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nerdiness, Pining Castiel, Post-Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Roman Myths, Sam's there too if you squint hard enough, Schmoop, They have a goddamn song, seriously guys it's really freaking nerdy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2670134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichor_Amber/pseuds/Petrichor_Amber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Castiel smiles to himself as he watches the familiar sight of Dean gently caressing the hood of the Impala as he approaches the driver’s door. The touch was tender, almost sacred; the last time Castiel had seen someone stroke a possession like that, not with greed or pride, but just true affection and gratitude, must have been thousands of years ago, when he saw Romans pray to the <i>lares</i> of their homes. People don’t pray to a household protector god anymore, but with a slight chuckle to himself that he’s sure no one notices, Castiel realises that it’s not even that insane a comparison. As he climbs into the backseat behind Dean, he ponders how this car has been more of a home to these two than anything else has been, and the way Dean treats her she would have a spirit to watch over them, protect them. It may not have been traditional, but the boys had never been homeless, and the Impala had always been there watching over them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gods of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> So, I really didn’t mean to do this, but after marathoning tons of SPN and then marking the definition of the Roman household gods on 65 midterms, everything smushed together in my head and I had to get this down. Because I am officially broken. Yes, these are actual parts of the Roman pantheon, though I have used selective aspects to suit my own purposes (just like Athena is the god of both weaving and warfare, and you could get two very different stories out of that; all the Greco-Roman dudes were kinda complicated). And the genius god is pronounced like again-ee-us but without the a. It has nothing to do with intelligence, like we use it now, and it was basically just your divine spark. 
> 
> The song at the end gave me OTP feels the last time I heard it, and I wanted to inflict that on you lovely people as well (bonus: if you watched Fringe you've heard the hauntingly beautiful way Anna Torv sang this that totally broke my heart). Also some obvious ripping from Swan Song, thanks Chuck.
> 
> Special thanks to my lovely beta Dangerousnotbroken for perusing this, and for her insight that it was "nerdy as fuck and also sweet." It's almost like she knows me! I'm well aware this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I really wanted to share this, so if even one of you likes it, I'll call that a win ;) Anyway, voila!

Castiel smiles to himself as he watches the familiar sight of Dean gently caressing the hood of the Impala as he approached the driver’s door. The touch was tender, almost sacred; the last time Castiel had seen someone stroke a possession like that, not with greed or pride, but just true affection and gratitude, must have been thousands of years ago, when he saw Romans pray to the _lares_ of their homes. People don’t pray to a household protector god anymore, but with a slight chuckle to himself that he’s sure no one notices, Castiel realises that it’s not even that insane a comparison. As he climbs into the backseat behind Dean, he ponders how this car has been more of a home to these two than anything else has been, and the way Dean treats her she would have a spirit to watch over them, protect them. It may not have been traditional, but the boys had never been homeless, and the Impala had always been there watching over them. 

He wonders vaguely whether the Winchesters know about the Roman household gods, whether they’ve ever even heard of the _lares_ or the others. But then he remembers they spent two days with an immortal who had birds eating his liver and didn’t figure that out without using Google, so they probably aren’t too familiar with minor Greco-Roman deities. Resting his forehead against the window Castiel is completely caught up in his own thoughts, realising that despite their ignorance, the men he hunts with worship gods they don’t even realise exist.

He thinks of the other household gods, and the first to come to mind are the _manes_. While they are usually described as the ghosts of one’s ancestors, Castiel knows that this nomenclature is incorrect. He has met ghosts. He knows that they are souls that can’t move on, knows that, regardless of their intentions, eventually they become cruel, spiteful things that wreak havoc and bring death and destruction. But the _manes_ aren’t like that. They aren’t really the ghosts of those who have gone before, so much as echoes, shadows. Their souls, their true spirits, have moved on, but part of them remains to protect their family, like some invisible mark of love left on a child’s brow after a parent’s kiss goodnight. Cas can sense them, the same way he can sense many things the boys cannot, and he knows the generations of Winchesters and Campbells that surround them. He can feel the hunters and men of letters working together to offer whatever protection they can while their scions face trial after trial, repeatedly exposing themselves to mortal peril in order to save others, usually strangers, sometimes the world. Cas can feel their pride, feel them shining slightly more brightly, but in essence, they are parents, and he feels their fear.

He thinks of the _penates_ , the gods of the store-cupboard, but it’s not quite right. It’s not like the Impala has a pantry, and while both Winchesters show devotion to mini fridges across the country, that attention is too divided, too minuscule to count. And then Castiel realises what would be their god of food, and he has to stop himself from laughing out loud. He knows gods are brought into being through devotion, and sacrifice, and a dedication of love that borders on obsession. There were deities based on abstract concepts, like Fury or Desire, or even Night. Why not, then, with all the energy that Dean has invested in his three decades into this single item, could Pie not be a goddess? Goddess of home, of comfort, of everything Castiel knows they had to grow up without, of everything he knows Dean longs for deep in his heart. He smiles a sad smile, adoring the tortured man driving this car and wishing so much he could make things easier for him. He dares to glance at the rear view mirror, just to capture a moment of Dean, but instead his eyes lock with the other man’s, and they exchange shy smiles before Dean looks back to the road and Castiel sheepishly drops his eyes to his lap. He takes a deep breath as he feels a happiness radiate throughout his body, then pretends that didn’t just happen, and returns to staring unseeing out the window.

The _genius_. He supposes it makes sense. The last of the household gods, the spirit that came into being the same day as its human analogue, two sides of the same coin. Castiel may have lived through millennia before he raised Dean from perdition, but that doesn’t mean he has existed for that long. He knows human minds wouldn’t understand, but he was created the same day Dean was. Castiel has just spent more time throughout the universe since then. Translations of the term genius over the years have varied from guardian angel to celestial counterpart to the other half of one’s soul, and as he mulls each one over Castiel realises they all fit. He’s not really a guardian angel, not anymore, but he feels like perhaps this is the best description of his role now. He knows the bond that he and Dean share, he knows how closely tied they are, and thinking of himself as Dean’s _genius_ is less complicated that expressing it as love, or as soulmates. He knows Dean feels it too, knows from the secret smiles, the uncharacteristic prayers he sends only to him, from the concern he always shows; despite the fact that Dean is a human and Castiel is, was, an angel of the Lord, Dean has always worried about him. Castiel knows, too, that when Dean says “I need you, Cas” that isn’t really what he’s saying, but it’s the only way he knows how to articulate the enormity of what they have, what they’re both afraid to try and label or capture. What they both caress just along the perimeter, tenderly as Dean’s fingers on the familiar black metal. Comfortable, loved, unspoken. 

The strains of an old rock song on the radio break into Castiel’s thoughts, and he smiles at how appropriate they are. He feels them permeate his entire body, reminding him to be brave, not to force Dean to classify this magic between them before he’s ready. He’s so busy smiling out the window, he doesn’t catch the verdant eyes in the mirror, staring straight at him as beautiful lips mouth along silently to the lyrics filling their home.

_For once in my life I have someone who needs me_  
 _Someone I've needed so long_  
 _For once, unafraid, I can go where life leads me_  
 _And somehow I know I'll be strong_

_For once I can touch what my heart used to dream of_  
 _Long before I knew_  
 _Someone warm like you_  
 _Would make my dreams come true_

_For once in my life I won't let sorrow hurt me_  
 _Not like it's hurt me before_  
 _For once, I have something I know won't desert me_  
 _I'm not alone anymore_

_For once, I can say, this is mine, you can't take it_  
 _As long as I know I have love, I can make it_  
 _For once in my life, I have someone who needs me._


End file.
